Here and There
by LASOS
Summary: It's time for Han to leave the Rebellion. Set sometime between ANH and ESB on Hoth.
1. Here

**Here**

A/N: I need a break from neo-Lockean philosophy for a minute. In case you haven't noticed I've started to play a little game with lines from Star Wars and The Office. So continuing on with my little game: "I'm sure Luke wasn't on that thing when it blew." That's what she said.

Disclaimer: I'm just playing with George's toys. I'll be careful and give them back, I promise.

Summary: Leia ponders Han's leaving the Rebellion. Han ponders his staying. Sometime in between ANH and ESB, set on Hoth, maybe the South Passage?

"_And if you have to leave; I wish that you would just leave; 'Cause your presence still lingers here; And it won't leave me alone..."_

Evanescense, "My Immortal"

--

Today is a day, like so many days now, that I can't stand you anymore. You walk around here, Captain, with your manly swagger and your sly smirk and your biting sarcasm and think that you're making me fawn over you like a little schoolgirl. Well, I'm not a little schoolgirl, Captain. I'm a leader of a movement to bring freedom to all worlds across this massive galaxy and I don't have time for such trivial things like attraction and love. And with every smile and every wink and every little suggestion you throw my way you make me angrier and angrier. Grow up, Captain. You're an adult.

"Hey, Princess," you say, as if that's my name. It's not, Captain. It's not even my title anymore. You must be a Princess of something, and when that something has been shattered into millions of tiny pieces with one fell swoop and all of your people are seared into oblivion I don't think you can any longer qualify as royalty. And you can't call me Senator, either, because there is no longer a Senate. It was dissolved away, corroded away, like metal in acid by that foul, foul man that calls himself Emperor and wages war and death on so many of us.

And you can't call me Leia, because it's all that I have left and it reminds me of all that I have lost.

But you call me anyway. "Hey Princess, have dinner with me." It's not even a question. It's a statement. An _order_. Are you off your rocker, Captain? It is I that will do the ordering around here, not you. I might consider such an occasion if I were invited, but not ordered. And I don't know why you'd suggest such a thing, anyway. Dinner is no longer an occasion, Captain, it is not a luxury to which we are privy. We are on a hidden base, if you haven't noticed, on yet another god-forsaken planet, if you haven't noticed, and all the food we eat is carefully rationed by droids that won't be tempted to hoard our limited supplies for themselves. If you haven't noticed.

"I'm busy," I tell you, which just makes you give me that crooked smirk that I hate so, so much. "No you're not," you say. How could you even know, Captain? Do you keep a record of my schedule? You don't even give me a chance to say anything before you've stepped in front of my path like you so often do with your quick stride and long legs as if you're making fun of me for being short. "Please?" Please? I didn't know you had even any semblance of manners; I was unaware that this word is in your vocabulary. "I'll cook for you."

What?

"Cook? With what? Stealing our rations, are you, Captain?"

"Now look, Princess, I haven't stolen nothing. Chewie and me have got a lot of food stores on the _Falcon_ and I thought that you might enjoy something other than the slop you get here."

I'm suspicious of you, Captain. You're being kind to me. Almost. What's up your sleeve?

"All right. I suppose I could make _one _meal."

You give me that smile again. The crooked one. The happy one. I like that smile even though I'll never tell you.

"Good. Come with me."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Where?"

"The _Falcon_."

You put your hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently down the frozen hallways in the direction of your hunk of scrap metal that you call a spaceship. Gently? Captain, I didn't know you could act as such. But your touch is...is it exhilarating? I'm careful to avoid the glances in our direction as we walk. Our relationship, as I'm sure you know, has become something that is quite the topic of hot gossip on this frozen rock. And to tell you the truth, I'll let it slide because at least these soldiers that have given so much can have something to think about, if even for a moment, other than impending doom at the hands of the Imperial Army. I have no vacation in my own thoughts, of course, because our relationship is torture for me. Is it for you, Captain? There has never been a man in my life that I have found so incredibly vexing. You drive me up the walls. But you're still a dear friend and maybe something even more. You're so attractive, Captain. I'm sure you know that, but of course I'll never tell you for fear of fanning the flames of your already oversized ego. But you somehow have managed to wiggle your way into my daily thoughts and I find my mind wandering, constantly wandering, in your direction.

Captain, you're quiet as we walk, which is another change from your normal demeanor, your perpetual mouthiness. Have you run out of things to say to me, Han, or is something bothering you? I steal a glance at you as we walk only to find you watching me intently with your gold-green eyes. I feel myself flush and turn around quickly and I am thankful that we have arrived at the _Falcon_. And your ship, Captain, smells less like the heap of junk that it is and more like...like food. Wait.

"You've cooked already." I wheel around to look at you with your smug smile and arms crossed across your chest. You shrug.

"I knew you'd say yes."

Infuriating. You're infuriating.

"How did you know that I'd say yes?"

"Ah, c'mon, Princess, I knew that you'd never pass up a chance to have dinner with me." You lean in close to me, your face inches from mine, and I can feel the blood rise to my ears. Am I angry? Am I excited? You look at my lips as though you want to kiss me, but then you smile and lean back. You're not crossing any boundaries? "I know you," you say, and walk past me into the galley of the ship.

"Sit," you say, motioning to one of the tattered old benches next to the table. I comply as you begin ladling food onto serving dishes and setting two plates on the table. "Nerf steak."

"Nerf steak? Where did you get find nerf steak on this planet?"

"It's the only thing Chewie'll eat so we keep it on the ship. He eats it raw, but I thought someone of your status might be worthy of a little more preparation."

I feel a little smile dance across my lips and I notice your reaction. It's just the slightest of change of color in your eyes, so subtle it could easily be missed. But dare I call it delight?

"Eat," you say, motioning to my plate.

"Maybe I should see you try it first. You could, after all Captain, be trying to poison me."

I can't believe that you have the audacity to look hurt. But ever must you have the last word.

"I'd thought about it." You smile as you take a bite of nerf. "There. You see? I'm still here."

"Ah. Well, I suppose it's safe then."

You watch me intently as I take a bite of this little meal that you've prepared. It's delicious. Who knew that you could do this?

"It's very nice, Captain. You can cook and you can pilot a tin can."

"Yeah, I'm about the perfect man, ain't I?"

I'm ever so slightly inclined to agree with you. But you'll never know.

We eat quietly for a moment or two and then a sudden sense of foreboding overtakes me. I have to stop. I look up at you to find you watching me again, but your expression has darkened. But your eyes are still so green. Sometimes it's hard for me to look into your eyes for very long. They're the same color as the green sea that lapped against the shores behind my father's house on Alderaan. They shimmer the same gold that the waters reflected in the warm afternoon sun. I cannot look into your eyes sometimes, Captain, because looking into them is like looking into my home and it makes me sad and I can't breathe because I miss it so much.

"I need to talk to you."

Your voice is low and it has lost the playful tone it held. You are suddenly very serious and I know that I was right in my feelings of dread.

"About, Captain?"

You shake your head.

"Han. It's Han."

I nod, but I feel as though words have left me.

"I have to leave."

I know.

I'm not going to look at you, Captain. I'm not going to find another reason to hurt when I look into your eyes.

"I have to go. It's been three years. I don't just have a price on my head anymore, I have a death sentence."

I know that you're watching me earnestly, willing me to understand. The truth is, Captain, I do understand why you have to go. But I don't understand why you're here. Why did you come back? You had your money, you were on your way, and I never would have had to think about you again. But now you're here, you've been here for years. You're my friend now, maybe even more than that. You're my family. You and Luke are the only people I have left in my life that I know care about me, _truly_ care about me. Everyone else sees me as a leader, a figurehead, a princess. Even Luke idolizes a little bit, but you, you Captain, you don't see me like that at all. You treat me as an equal, you look past the pomp and see me, only me. No one has treated me that way before and I put on a big show for everyone but the truth is it means more to me than you'll ever, ever know.

You came back for whatever reason and you became my friend and now you're leaving. I've known for so long that this is fleeting, that you'd be leaving one day, but each day you stayed was another day I pushed the thought further and further from my mind. And yet each day you stayed was another day I knew, just knew that the day you left would be one of the most difficult days of my life. Do you know what you're doing to me, Captain? You're ripping my family apart all over again. What consolation is a Rebellion if so few people care about you as a person, not just as an icon? The truth, Captain, is that I wish you would have left a long time ago, that you would just leave now and get this over with because I just can't stand the waiting any longer.

I must have been silent for a while because I startle when you lay yet another gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Leia." Your voice is quiet, pleading.

"Please don't go."

--


	2. There

**There**

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing. Don't sue.

A/N: "Look at the size of that thing." That's what she said.

Summary: Part II, companion to "Here."

"_Last time I talked to you; You were lonely and out of place; You were looking down on me; Lost out in space..."_

Our Lady Peace, "Somewhere Out There"

--

Sometimes, Princess, I swear that you are colder than this god-forsaken planet that we've inhabited for the last few years. I've never seen you greet me with anything other than that icy gaze, the one that says you'll give me a moment of your time but only because you think I might use a blaster on you if you didn't. I wonder why you're angry at me, Princess, angry all the time. Why is that? Do you associate me with the day that your entire world fell apart and feel nothing but hatred every time you look at me? You don't act this way towards Luke, and he was there that day too. You're so confusing, sometimes, Princess, so infuriating sometimes that I just can't stand it anymore. There are days when I can't wait to get out of here, to get back to the life I left behind, to stop looking over my shoulder expecting to see a blaster bolt flying into my face, shot by one of the hundreds of bounty hunters looking to collect the enormous price on my head.

And then there are days when you look at me and smile a little, the little sad smile that's the best you can manage which I know must be so difficult for you because you have, after all, lost so much. Sometimes I am in awe of how you continue to go on day after day, barking orders at soldiers and droids and generals as if nothing has ever happened in your life to give you the slightest bit of pause. You have a lot of spark in your tiny body, Princess, and it is an amazing thing to witness. Frustrating as hell, yes, but still amazing.

But I'm glad that you decided to come to the _Falcon_ for dinner because the truth is, Princess, I wasn't entirely sure that you would take the bait. But I need to talk to you about this, I need to get you alone for a minute and make you understand why it is necessary for me to go. And I need to see you eat something, some real food, one last time before I leave. Because, Princess, you sleep so little and you eat even less and as much as I don't want to admit it I worry that you'll waste away before my very eyes. You can't lead an entire war on no sleep and an empty belly. You'll kill yourself before that son of a bantha in the black helmet ever gets near you. You're so beautiful, Princess, so hauntingly beautiful. Your hair and your lips and your sad eyes. It's unfair that a person as beautiful as you has been thrown into something as ugly as war. I wish I could shield you from it all if you'd only let me, if I'd only let myself. I wish that I didn't have to tell you what I must.

I think that you know what I'm about to say before I begin to say it because you put down your fork, glance at me, and then stare at your plate, refusing to look at me again. Does it mean that much to you that I've stayed this long? Or are you just ready to get out of here?

"I have to leave," I tell you, trying, trying, trying to make you understand why, but you sit there in silence. No words, not a sound from your mouth. Don't I deserve a little better than that? I mean, the least you could do, Princess, is be a little nicer to me. I came back for you, after all. I came back a little for Luke, too, but mostly I came back for you. I came back because of what I saw in you after we had escaped the Death Star and the TIE Fighters and you'd had a chance to sit down and breathe and be alone with your thoughts. And Princess, I saw you. I saw the pain in your eyes, I saw this deep, gaping wound form in your soul, I saw you catch your breath and fight back the tears that I know you wanted to cry after the destruction of your very home. And, Princess, I knew then, even though I didn't know you at all, that I never wanted to see that pain again, to give you a reason to feel that pain again. And so I, the heartless mercenary, came back and I helped to the best of my abilities in the slightest attempt to stitch up the emptiness that you _have_ to feel in the very depths of your heart. I did all that for you, Princess, so the least you could do is say something, anything, acknowledge that I've been here and that I will soon be gone.

I don't want to leave you. But you know that I have to go, Princess. I'm a dead man if I don't leave and I won't be doing you or the Rebellion any good if I have to watch my back every time we go near a civilized system and get involved in shootouts with bounty hunters like we did on Ord Mantrell. And if they keep sending us on missions together, Princess, like they've been doing so often, you're in danger too and I just can't stand that thought. You get into your own trouble, Princess, and I want to keep you away from that too, but I will never, ever, ever if I can help it put you into trouble that was my doing.

My doing. Not my ship's doing.

You're so quiet, Princess, that I worry you've left this conversation so I say your name and put a hand on your shoulder and you jump at my touch and prove to me that your mind has been somewhere else. Where? And then you look at me and I see it again, the very pain that I never, ever wanted you to have to feel. Your eyes, Princess, are like large brown pools into which I can so easily get lost, but now they are swimming with the tears that you won't let fall and I'm taken aback that my having to leave has had this effect on you.

And then you say it. "Please don't go." It's barely a whisper, but it rings in my ears. It's one of the most urgent things I think I've ever heard you say. Don't go? But you don't need me here, Princess. You've got plenty of pilots, plenty of friends. You've got no need for a roughed-up pirate that's as good as dead anyway.

"We need you here."

"No you don't, Sweetheart. You've got hundreds of great pilots."

"I need you here."

What? You need me here? Her royal highness? You've never needed anything before, much less me. I thought you didn't even like me.

"You what?"

"I need you here. I need you to stay."

"Oh?"

I can't believe that that was the best reply I could muster. You just told me that you_ need me. _Me. The more conceited part of me wants to find out exactly why it is you want me to stay so I can exploit it in our future conversations. The slightly more intelligent part of me says that it was hard enough for you to admit even that and I should just accept what you've said and move on.

"So there you have it, Captain."

You won't look at me. Are you ashamed of how you feel? Do you think I'm going to judge you as weak? You may be many things, Princess, but weak is not among them. I could never think that about you. I reach a hand out to touch your face but you jerk it away. Fine. Instead I decide to place my hand on yours and give it a little squeeze. Your tiny hand feels so delicate in mine, and so cold. You are wasting away, Princess. I've eaten as many meals as possible with you to try and get you to consume more food and you just won't do it. I can't imagine how you'd shrink away if I left.

I feel my heart beat the slightest bit faster when you squeeze back.

"Well, Princess, I suppose I could stay a little longer. The _Falcon_ could stand a few more repairs, anyway."

You finally meet my eyes and I see the tight smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. No, Sweetheart, I won't tease you about this.

Well, not yet.

"Hey," I tell you, motioning to your food. "You don't get to leave the table until you finish all of your dinner."

"Captain, I don't think that you are in any position to be ordering me around."

"Look, Sweetheart, you're on my ship so you obey my rules."

You smile a little more at that and pick up your fork and begin eating again. We sit in comfortable silence while we finish and I'm amazed that you and I don't need words between us all the time. You're a slow eater, Princess, you take tiny, tiny bites, but you finish it all. I'm proud of you. But now I guess I've kept you away from your duties long enough, Princess, so you can leave if you want.

I stand up and begin to clear your place. You catch my wrist and look intently into my eyes and you say my name. Your hands are smooth and your voice is even more so. You've managed to swallow whatever tears you wanted to cry and replace them with that icy shell that protects you that I pretend to hate but really adore so much.

"Han."

You say my name. Should I call you by yours?

"Leia?"

"Thank you."

I know that you don't mean for the nerf steak.

--


End file.
